


CSI: Grit

by fhsa_archivist



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-11
Updated: 2006-02-11
Packaged: 2019-02-05 17:38:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12799113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: The desert heat makes Nick hot and gritty. Greg helps him cool down.





	CSI: Grit

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

  
Author's notes: Spoilers: Revenge is Best Served Cold  
  
Author’s note: The first two scenes are taken directly from the episode’s transcript. I don’t own the quotes or the characters. The final two scenes are of my own imagination.  


* * *

Nick squinted over at Catherine, the sun glaring into his eyes even around the frames of his sunglasses. The airfield was deserted, dusty, and hot, and Nick couldn’t wait to get out of there. He was beginning to wonder why he’d agreed to work during the day. At least then they wouldn’t be simmering like grits on a stove. And why was he wearing black?

 

“Well, this was no plane. Marks are too narrow. No center wheel, and…” Catherine picked up a smashed red and silver object. “…when was the last time a plane lost a rearview mirror?”

 

Nick walked over to the Catherine, the objects in mirror are closer than they appear catching his eye. “Actually, we’re looking at two.”

 

“Two?” Catherine’s whole face squinted at Nick.

 

“Yeah, I’ve got fresh marks at the head of the runway – two sets, both parallel, so…” He turned to face the other end of the runway. “My guess is one car spun out over here…”

 

“Man, you are way ahead of me.”

 

Nick shrugged. “Yeah well, I’ve been here a while.” Catherine was probably still cool from the air conditioning in the office. “Over there’re another set of treads going straight ahead, so…” One swerve and one straight set of tracks.

 

“Right. And you only lay down treads when your wheels aren’t going smoothly. Panic breaking? Sudden boost of acceleration? Race?”

 

Nick nodded, a slight breeze sending a new swirl of dust into his pores. “I think so, yeah.”

 

“Drag racing?”

 

“Or street racing.” They contemplated the treads silently for a moment.

 

“Ah…” Nick knew that tone of voice. The one that meant Catherine was already thinking of her sources. They’d be doing research later in their shift.

 

“There’s a reason it’s illegal,” Nick said after a moment. Catherine nodded.

 

“Yeah. Kids end up dead.”

 

***

 

“A whiskey sour, huh?” Alcohol poisoning didn’t seem likely. “Yeah, I’m a ‘thug passion’ man myself. It’s a Tupack thing,” he explained, pronouncing the word wrong on purpose.

 

“Tupac?” Sara rolled her eyes at Greg’s obvious ignorance. He grinned.

 

“So what does your paramedic like to drink? I’ll bet with a name like Hank, he’s probably got some ho’s sipping on ‘yac.” It was fun to tease Sara sometimes, even though she could be annoying when he went overboard.

 

“Yac? Cognac? No. Ho’s?” Sara sighed. “I’m not going there, and that’s not any of your business. It’s nobody’s business, as a matter of fact.” Ohh, someone was touchy tonight.

 

“All right, well, I won’t tell Warrick and Nick about Hank on one condition…” Sara looked at him expectantly. “You tell me what he’s got that I don’t.” He forced a flirty grin, but he couldn’t help but think of Nick at the scene, probably flirting with Catherine out of necessity. This pretending to be straight thing was getting old.

 

Sara ignored him, smiling to herself as she read the printout. “There was tetrahydrozoline in the victim’s drink.” Like that was a surprise.

 

“Uh, I never got my answer.” He had to push it, had to act like he really cared.

 

“I got mine. You don’t even like Tupac, Greg.” Thank God for rejection from Sara. It was the only thing that kept him sane.

 

Well, that, and the thought of going home to Nick in their bed.

 

***

 

They found their source near the Strip, but the race wasn’t on until midnight. Nick took the opportunity to escape to the locker room, removing his sunglasses and putting them in the locker.

 

Nick took a set of clean clothes from his locker, resigned to splashing his face in the sink and changing. Looking around, he realized the showers were free, and most everyone seemed to be working. Nick didn’t often like to shower at work, but he had about half of the Nevada desert embedded in his skin. Undecided, he reached for a towel, and looked between the showers and the sinks. Something had to give.

 

He was still standing there when the door opened. Greg leaned in, looking around the room before letting a smirk bend his lips. “Hey there, hot stuff.”

 

Nick rolled his eyes. “You would be too if you’d just spent two hours in the desert.”

 

“Two hours?” Greg stepped inside the locker room, taking a sip of the drink he was holding. “That sucks.”

 

It was Nick’s turn to smirk. Actually, it felt like he was leering, even though Greg always said he didn’t know how to leer. “Not in the good way, unfortunately.” Something sparked in Greg’s eyes as he turned the lock on the door, which was not only technically against the rules but also caused Nick’s cock to twitch and harden in his slacks.

 

“Why don’t you let me make it suck in the good way?” Greg swaggered across the room. The sight of Greg’s swishing hips, combined with the sound of the ice cubes clacking against each other in the plastic cup, made Nick’s mouth water. He didn’t realize he’d started to lick his lips until he noticed Greg’s eyes following the movement of his tongue. “Thirsty?”

 

“Maybe,” Nick said, giving one last teasing swipe of his tongue before reaching for the cup Greg offered him. Greg pulled his hand back at the last second and nodded toward the bench on the other side of the island of lockers.

 

Once they were sitting together, Nick reached for the drink again, but Greg shook his head and held it out. Understanding the game, Nick extended neck, looking into Greg’s eyes as he wrapped his lips around the straw and started to suck. He made a show of pursing his lips and taking long, slow swallows, letting the root beer slide down his throat as Greg watched, his eyes darkening. Nick released the straw and captured Greg’s mouth, satisfied with Greg’s enthusiastic response. He dug his fingers into gel-stiff hair, pulling Greg closer, sharing the taste of cool root beer as he slid his tongue against Greg’s.

 

Greg pulled away, suddenly, and favored Nick with a devilish grin. In mere seconds Greg was on his knees between Nick’s spread thighs, soda still in one hand, the other hand reaching for Nick’s zipper. Nick didn’t hesitate to lift his hips and help Greg lower his pants, impatient for relief from the erection that had been getting more insistent since Greg had entered the room.

 

“Hot in the desert, isn’t it?” Greg was teasing now, ass on his heels, smirking up at Nick. Entirely unsympathetic to Nick’s current condition. “Want me to help you cool down?” Before Nick could answer, Greg’s mouth was on him, sucking harshly at the line of his groin. Gone, again, and taking a long sip of root beer, wiggling his eyebrows as he removed the cover and took a drink straight from the cup. Swirling the drink around in his mouth and swallowing, but only partially, because when Greg engulfed his cock there were melting bits of ice branding cold lines against his heated cock.

 

Nick gritted his teeth when Greg pulled away and scooped his hand into the cup of root beer. His hand emerged dripping with soda, cupping several bigger pieces of ice that Greg proceeded to press into the underside of his cock. Nick threw his head back, the contrast of the heat of Greg’s hand and the chilling effects of the ice making his cock jerk under Greg’s palm. Wrapping around him, then, hot-cold hand and hot-wet mouth, stroking and sucking all at the same time. Melted ice dripping down between his balls and he shivered, spread his thighs farther apart. Hand gone, then sticky against his face as Greg’s sucks became slurps and he felt Greg shifting under him. A glance down made Nick groan – Greg was pushing his own pants down to his knees.

 

Greg braced his free hand on Nick’s thigh as he resumed the wet suction on Nick’s cock. Their eyes locked, and Nick swiped his tongue across Greg’s palm, tasting sticky-sweet remnants of root beer and the vague taste of his own skin. Greg’s eyes started to drift shut, but they widened when Nick scraped his teeth down Greg’s palm. Greg snatched his hand away to start stroking at his own cock, and from his vantage point on the bench Nick could see Greg start to pump his hips forward into his fist.

 

Fingers from Greg’s other hand invaded his mouth, stroked his tongue as Nick felt the head of his cock bump at the entrance to Greg’s throat. A few twitching throat muscles later, Nick felt himself sink into Greg’s throat, tight heat massaging the head of his cock. Nick imitated the suction on Greg’s fingers, rolling his tongue against and under and between each knuckle until he felt the vibrations of Greg’s moan surrounding his cock. Fingers gone from his mouth and down to his balls, tugging him closer to orgasm even as Greg rocked back and forth under him. Edge of the metal bench biting into his palms as he fucked Greg’s mouth, and Greg just took it, swallowed him whole and fingered him to completion.

 

Nick rolled off the bench after he came, reaching down to add his hand to Greg’s cock as he fisted his other hand in Greg’s hair and pulled him in for a kiss. Nick was doing most of the work. Greg clutched at his shirt, hot smears of come painting his stomach and groin as Greg rutted and stiffened against him.

 

Breathless pseudo-recovery, bare skin pressing against the gritty floor, dust particles from the airfield still lodged in his hair. He’d felt gritty since before coming into the locker room. Now he felt even more gritty, dirty, and he could add sticky to the mess, but the showers were still free and maybe Greg would join him.

 

***

 

Greg rolled onto his back. Nick’s eyes were closed, hands on his stomach, breathing slowly returning to normal. Greg groaned as he sat up and tucked himself in, then reached for his drink, only to find that it was overturned and trailing trickles of carbonation across the floor.

 

“I should probably get back to work.” He really hadn’t been planning to blow Nick when he’d walked into the locker room; hadn’t even known Nick would be back from the scene. The truth was he’d felt guilty the moment he saw Nick standing at his locker, and all over a little innocent flirting with Sara. Sure, it was just a front so no one would catch on about him and Nick – but that didn’t mean he felt good about it.

 

Nick frowned and glanced over at the showers. Greg shifted uncomfortably, pulling himself up to sit against the lockers. “Yeah, probably,” Nick said, sounding reluctant. “I have to take a shower anyway.”

 

The thought of Nick taking a shower made Greg’s cock twitch weakly. If they weren’t at work, he would drag Nick into the shower without delay. He grinned. “Yeah, you dirty boy.” Nick quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t move from the floor when Greg finally stood up. “Go take a shower. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

 

“Okay.” And it really was okay, because he’d be going home to Nick, not Sara. Greg waited until Nick was in the shower to unlock the door. After washing his hands and changing into a more comfortable shirt, as had been his original plan, Greg walked out of the locker room to face the lab.

 

Eight hours and counting until he could join Nick in the shower at home.


End file.
